We have work to do
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya along with Dancer and Slate are on a stakeout that takes an unexpected turn. Pre-saga


They watched intently, staring at the pieces as if they could will them to move. Of course that wasn't the case as a group of older men gathered around the outdoor chess boards in Washington Square Park.

It was but thirteen minutes or so by car from the New York headquarters of the U.N.C.L.E. and two of its agents stood to the back of the crowd, not really watching the players.

There was only one man who was of interest to them. It was the fellow wearing the fedora standing directly in front of one of the chess tables. Behind him wearing sunglasses and a hat was his bodyguard, a man known only as Louie the 'stick.' He was nicknamed that because he was as skinny as one.

His boss, Adolfo Cantori, was one of the local mafia's leaders who'd made the crossover to the T.H.R.U.S.H. Hierarchy. Their promises to him of power and riches no doubt seemed more lucrative than the operations of La Cosa Nostra. Given Cantori's murderous past and his illicit business connections, he was right up THRUSH's alley.

Little did he know that if he failed them, he might just find himself sleeping with the fishes in the East River, but that wasn't UNCLE's problem. At the moment they needed to just see what Cantori might be up to as this was a rare public appearance.

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were there to observe only, just to make sure no hand offs or communications were taking place. If they did, Mark Slate and April Dancer were nearby to follow those leads, again having been instructed not to engage and to merely observe unless instructed otherwise. It was Napoleon's call.

For once nothing seemed to be happening, other than the chess games. Cantori merely watched the players. No one approached or spoke to him or his companion. He was finally overheard speaking to his bodyguard, saying that he was ready to go eat at mama's. She was making a special chicken cacciatore for lunch.

"Is it a code?" Illya whispered.

"I don't think so," Napoleon leaned in as he spoke.

They watched as Adolfo Cantori headed to his car parked nearby, he got into it as did his guard and they drove off...in the right direction if they were indeed heading to his home.

"Should we follow them" Illya stepped back from the chess players.

"Negative. I think we're done here." Napoleon pulled his communicator and discreetly spoke into it.

"Channel F- Dancer."

"I saw him leave," she answered."What's your call?" She and Slate were waiting in their car.

"Our instructions were not to engage. Nothing was going on with Cantori here so we'll let him go for now. "Solo looked at his wristwatch."How about lunch, any preferences?"

"Oh I don't care darling. I'm not fussy and neither is Mark."

Illya tugged at his partner's sleeve, mouthing a word.

"Wait," Napoleon said."Something wrong? Did I miss anything with Cantori?"

"No. If you are making a decision on where to eat lunch then I vote Italian. I have a sudden urge for chicken cacciatore."

"Did you hear that April? Illya wants Italian."

"Fine. How about Mama Leona's?" Solo asked.

Illya nodded his approval as the portions there were extra large and there were always leftovers to take home, even with his appetite.

"That sounds good. Meet us at the car. Out."

"Happy?" Solo asked his partner.

"Immensely. I like it when an assignment ends without issue and we get to go for a nice lunch."

"Tovarisch, only you."

The agents gathered in their car; Slate behind the wheel while Napoleon reported to Waverly.

"Sir, if it's all right with you we're going to stop off for a bite to eat before returning to headquarters.

"Very well Mr. Solo," the Old Man sighed."But nothing on your expense account mind you. Your assignment concluded with Cantori heading home."

"Yes sir. Understood. Solo out. Does everyone have enough money for lunch?"

"I do darling,"April answered.

"Me too mate, what about you Illya?" Kuryakin was riding in the front passenger seat.

His hesitation forced Napoleon to speak up."Don't tell me you're broke? You always have money."

"I would not be, had I not loaned you money to take your date to dinner and dancing last night."

"Well tovarisch," Napoleon grinned."It's your lucky day as I just cashed a check this morning, so I'll be paying you back."

Illya slowly turned his head to look at his partner."Does that include what I loaned you last week, and come to think of it what I loaned you when we were in London two weeks ago?"

"When you put it that way...no, but you'll definitely have money to pay for your lunch."

"My heart be still," Illya snickered.

Mark parked the car and together the four agents walked into the crowded restaurant.

As they were waiting to be seated, Slate spotted something.

"Don't look now mates but Cantori is here. He's at a table back by the kitchen."

The others resisted looking, letting Mark do the spying.

"Is he with anyone?"Napoleon asked.

"Yes and you're not going to be happy about it. You know that new secretary that just started at headquarters?"

"No!" April whispered."What's her name. Fornelli?

"Finelli," Napoleon said."Angelina Finelli and I had that date with her last night."

"Do you think she might be some sort of mole?" Illya asked.

"She was vetted, but hey with this little revelation nothing can be ruled out now,"Solo mumbled.

"Darlings I think we better get out of here before she spots us. The girl does know us all on sight."

"Good idea April. You and Mark report back to headquarters while Illya and I wait here to see where she goes."

They separated and forty five minutes later Cantori left accompanied by Sticks. Angelina left a few minutes later, getting into a taxi.

Solo and Kuryakin hopped in a checkered cab and followed her...right back to headquarters. They quickly notified Security and once inside she was immediately met by them and taken to a holding cell.

Napoleon and Illya were in charge of questioning the girl.

The Russian was a master at interrogation, and could scare the best of them into talking but Napoleon didn't want to do that to the girl. Instead he and Illya played 'good cop, bad cop,' with a caveat that his partner wasn't going to be too rough on the girl.

That being said, Solo came to her rescue just as Illya had brought her to tears.

"Angelina, Angelina, don't cry sweetheart." He handed her his clean white handkerchief. " I won't let him hurt you," Napoleon squinted at his partner as he left the room, just for the effect.

"I just need you to tell me the truth. Why were you having lunch today with a notorious member of the mafia?"

"No way! He's not a crook," she sniffled.

"And what makes you say that?"

"Be...because he's my uncle. My mom's brother Aldo. I've known him all my life! He was in town and invited me to lunch at Mama's….Mama Leona's belongs to his cousin from Sicily. All our family goes there to eat. Uncle Aldo is a busy man with his olive oil import business, so he's not around that much. He wanted to take me to lunch to celebrate me getting my job."

"He did, did he? Did you tell him you worked for U.N.C.L.E.?"

"Oh, no way! I signed an agreement when I was hired not to speak about anything to do with my job here. I told my uncle I was a secretary for a small novelty company. That's what Security instructed me to say should anyone ever ask where I worked," she proudly squared her shoulders. " I said I worked for the Acme Novelty Company in Brooklyn."

She started sobbing again. "Napoleon am I in trouble?"

"Not at the moment, now just calm down while I go speak to Mr. Waverly."

"You won't leave me alone with Mr. Kuryakin again will you?"

"No, don't worry I won't." He winked at her.

Ten minutes later Napoleon and Illya were in Waverly's conference room discussing the situation.

"If she is indeed some sort of mole, she hasn't been here long enough to have had access to any sensitive information; she's still in her training stages," Waverly reasoned. He was surprisingly calm but in the blink of an eye he slammed his fist on the table; a very uncharacteristic thing for him to do. There was little that would anger Alexander Waverly, but this wasn't an acceptable situation by any means.

"Dash it all, why didn't Security catch this!"

"Sir is there any chance we might be able to use her to our advantage and perhaps get her to spy on her uncle for us?"Illya asked.

"I can answer that sir," Napoleon interjected."In Italian families blood is thicker than water. She'd never spy on him as it would bring shame to her family to turn on her uncle."

"Even if he is a known mobster responsible for murder, and now a member of T.H.R.U.S.H.?"Illya asked.

"Not to her,"Solo shook his head."He's merely her Uncle Aldo."

"Then there is no other recourse but to dismiss as well as detrain her," Waverly concluded.

"Mr. Waverly sir. I believe she's telling the truth about not knowing of her uncle's activities."

"That is a moot point Mr. Solo as she is now a liability. It is of concern to me that her uncle or one of his associates might discover her true employment and try to have her spy on us...as you said blood is thicker than water. Have Dr. Lazarus take care of her detraining immediately. We'll find the young lady gainful secretarial employment elsewhere, a transfer from Acme as it were. She'll merely have been out for a few days with a migraine perhaps? You'll see to the details, won't you?"

"Yes sir." Both agents left the office side by side.

"Napoleon you did not sleep with her did you?"

"No! Why do you think that's what I do with every girl I date?"

"Given your track record with women, it is not a difficult presumption to make, is it?"

"I guess you're right tovarisch, but just to set the record straight I don't go to bed with everyone of my dates."

Illya resisted rolling his eyes, his usual reaction to his partner's statements. "So I still did not get my chicken cacciatore," Illya changed the subject with a sigh.

"Well I guess the Commissary will have to do tovarisch, as first things first. We need to take care of Miss Finelli."

"You do not need me for that do you?"

"No, not really. I think you frightened the poor girl enough."

Illya stopped and held out his hand.

"What?" Solo asked.

Kuryakin rubbed his thumb, index and middle fingers together; the symbol for money.

"You're just a Horton the elephant aren't you?" Napoleon snickered.

"Who is that?"

"No Horton _hears_ a who," Napoleon said facetiously.

"Who did he hear?"

This time Solo laughed at his partner's confusion. Still, he wasn't quite sure if Illya was pulling his leg or not. Rather than having to give an explanation of Dr. Seuss, he fished his wallet out of his pocket and paid the money he'd already promised to give him, plus an extra five spot on top of that for lunch. He figured what the heck, why not treat the man. He was always loaning him money after all.

"Go, get your chicken cacciatore. I know you're hungry."

Illya suddenly felt guilty. "No it can wait, it is almost suppertime and I will go home for dinner instead, after I help you with Miss Finelli; I know the situation is bothering you."

"Thanks, I appreciate that as long as you promise not to scare her tovarisch."

"I trust your judgement that she is an innocent. You have my word, and for what good it will do I will apologize to Angelina for frightening her."

"She won't remember after her detraining," Solo nodded.

"It is the thought that counts, does it not?" Illya placed his hand on his partner's shoulder.

"You're right. Come on, we have a job to do."

"Oh by the way," Illya blandly announced. "I am not giving you back your five dollars."

Napoleon crinkled his nose. "Why doesn't that surprise me tovarisch?"

"Think of it as a down payment on what you still owe me my friend."

"Peachy."


End file.
